


On Assignment

by NerdyMind



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A.G.R.A., Missing Scene, Pre-The Empty Hearse, but if you're a fan of innocent non assassin Mary you won't enjoy this, no actual shipping here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyMind/pseuds/NerdyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the deleted scene prompt: "Where did Mary go in TEH when she left the table?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Assignment

“The Marylebone Road,” John tells the cabbie. He’s dressed nice. Nicer than usual. Wearing the suit and tie he’s only worn once before. The day Sherlock’s reputation was cleared and they’d gone together to that cold stone, hand in hand, John came home and stood before the closet a long while. Touching the silk of the tie and muttering to an empty suit hanging in the closet next to his khakis like a second battle dress. Caked in the dust of time, responsible for almost as many nightmares.

 _Tonight’s the night then_ , she thinks, _he’s dressed for battle_. Mary watches John stare out the window at passing lights. His hands are fidgeting again. Not the tremors, though he says those have returned, just nervousness. He’s patting an inner pocket again. Fourth time in the past ten minutes. _Definitely tonight_ , she thinks. She’d found the ring a month back. It looked old, probably a family heirloom. No need to jump to conclusions just yet. But he had just been to see his sister the week before so the necessary caution had been taken to ensure John stayed focused and invested.

Mary lets a small frown slip her mask. John spoke with his family before making the decision but not hers. Not that he could, _absurd_ , as far as John Watson knew, Mary Morstan’s parents are long dead. As far as she knows, he is right. But as for the woman sat next to him, her parents are back East in Tabor. Her father still awaits the day some nice young man will come to his door and take her from this terrible life she’s fallen into. Mary turns to look out her own window, hiding the internal struggle with reality playing across her eyes. She wonders briefly if her parents would be happy for her. Marrying a doctor after all.

The cab stops, pulling Mary back to London. John pays and she is led inside with a gentle hand to the small of her back. Ever the gentleman. The place is posh, very nice. Taking in the colorful patterns of a stained glass door something clicks in her memory. She’s been here once before, in another life. Celebrating with Seb and Jim. But that was then and this is John. Despite their meager salaries John has pulled out every stop this evening. He pulls her chair out, smiles briefly. Still too nervous for idle chit chat but she can manage for the both of them.

“Thanks,” she says, wrapping her lips around a smile, tilting her jaw to catch the light in her eyes in a way she knows by instinct now. He flusters, smitten and settles into his own chair.

“Champagne?” he asks, finding salvation behind a menu. Mary opens her mouth to protest but is stilled by a small chime from her handbag. Her spine reacts on muscle memory, snapping to attention, awaiting instruction. Jim is gone. Jim is dead, and there’s a new player on the board now. But he likes to text too.

“Sorry,” she says, slipping the slim phone out part way for a peek at the text. It’s from Janine. Ice replaces her veins and Mary stills for a moment before the room returns to normal temperatures and time flows again.

“Alright?” John looks concerned but there is something else, layered beneath annoyance at the interruption she sees relief. He isn’t ready.

“Yes, fine. You know how Nance is,” she smiles again, slips the phone back inside and attempts to redirect conversation. “So, drinks?”

“Yes, good, I.. that is…” John stammers, sets the menu back down and reaches out to take Mary’s hand. “I’ve brought you here… because. That is... I wanted to ask you something.”

She squeezes his hand in reassurance, well aware of what it is he intends to ask, but her confused girlfriend mask just smiles, curious. Another muffled chirp from the hand bag. She frowns. Uncooperative little mask. “Sorry.” She extracts the phone fully this time. Janine again. Mary unlocks the phone to type in a quick reply. She can’t ignore the request twice or there will be consequences. John is properly staring now. His annoyance growing. She gives him the pout, the one that says _I am so very sorry to disappoint you but this other person is being such a pain_. He arches an eyebrow in question, sits back and folds his arms waiting for an answer while he searches the table cloth for loose threads and listens to Mary typing a text.

“Nancy,” she lies. Nancy, the perpetually troubled childhood friend John’s never met because she doesn’t exist. Nancy who always calls for relationship advice or to discuss ill family members or to get a ride from Heathrow. “I’ll make it quick and let her know we’re having a night out.”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting,” John smiles and looks up but Mary is gone.

Mary is across the lobby, making her way upstairs to the Ladies. John quirks his head watching her go, he was sure she’d never been here before. He shakes the thought aside, reaching for water to quench a dry throat.

Inside the loo, Mary rereads her texts.

**On Assignment, CAM. 9p Marylebone.**

**The package is arriving. Be sure your dear doctor receives him.**

Shivers wrack her small frame for a moment. She’ll never get used to this new spider. Sure, when it was Jim he kept a weather eye on his team, but he kept a distance. But this man, he was a bit too clingy. Always looming just beyond your vision. Reminding you that he is watching. CAM contacted her shortly after Jim’s death. She had just started working at the clinic, taking her position as John’s shadow, when a string of mysterious text messages arrived piquing her curiosity enough to meet the sender. Since then, she’s simply been idling. Waiting for Sherlock’s inevitable return. Seb fell out of contact after Jim’s body disappeared. Obsessively believing the man was still alive as well and they had fought until she found herself alone in London, following orders with no one to report to. But Mary carried on, following his last request in grim homage. Getting in close with the good doctor. Waiting. Perhaps Seb would be proven right.

 _Tonight’s the night_ , she thinks. A giddy thrill running through her veins like a child on Christmas morning. It’s been two years since she last laid eyes on Sherlock Holmes. That floppy mess of curls arguing with Jim atop Bart’s while she and Seb watched. She wonders briefly how John will react. Will he punch the ghost or embrace him? It’s sure to be entertaining either way. Lucky her, front row seats. So long as they are reunited and Mary pays her debts, she doesn’t care if John kisses the man or breaks his nose.

She checks her face in the mirror. Reapplies lipstick and winks, blowing her reflection a kiss. _Showtime._

Back at the table, John is impatiently waving off a waiter. Mary smiles and descends the staircase, retaking her seat and role. “Sorry that took so long.”

“It’s fine.” His eyes say it’s actually fine this time. He’d needed a chance to breathe.

“Now then, what did you want to ask me?” Mary pushes. There is no reason to delay this any longer. _Curtains up. Act I. Let’s begin_. John laughs.

He is talking but every movement distracts her. Eyes darting to the side at every passing shadow. Seeing Sherlock in every tall figure, every dark haired passerby. She catches a snippet of John’s words. Flattery. No one is deaf to flattery.

“Meeting you is the best thing that could have happened to me”

“I agree,” she blurts a bit too quickly. Her nose crinkles a bit, biting back at the slip up. Oops.

“What?”

“Sorry,” she manages. John laughs and it’s okay again. And John is looking at her in a way that melts the mask. Unadulterated adoration. And Mary lets herself get lost in that smile. Thinking _maybe, maybe I can have this. This man. This life. Oh god and John’s talking again. Focus_.

“Mary. If you’ll have me…” and the giggles slip. She’s trying not to laugh at this trusting man. Like a puppy. She wants to pity him. But she wants to take him home with her. Let him kip at the end of her bed for a lifetime just to keep that ball of sunshine in her life. If he’ll have her. But of course he’ll never have her, not the real her. Before she can slip up again, the waiter is back.

John waves the man off, but he is insistent. Unmoving. She giggles again at the absurdity of the entire evening when John freezes. His face a solid mask of fear. She looks up, and there he is. Sherlock Holmes. She can’t contain the giggle that slips. Here he is. It is Christmas after all. And the man has wrapped himself in a ridiculous French accent and painted moustache and she laughs, forgetting herself.

 _Shit_. Back in character. Mary swallows hard, resets her mask and begins anew. _Role to play_ , she reminds herself as John stands on shaky legs, jostling the table. _Flatmates to reunite. Weddings to plan. Debts to repay._


End file.
